Dragon Age: The Lost Blade
by UncommonCowardice
Summary: Darkness threatens to consume the land of Ferelden as the Blight approaches. What hope remained was extinguished when the King's Army and the majority of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden perished. It would take a miracle for the two who remained to not only defeat the Blight but to also end the ensuing Civil War on their own but fate, it seems, has other plans.


Tonight the Wilds was an uncharacteristically eventful land, not that there was ever a true dull moment mind you, but in the sense that there was a sudden influx of foreigners the likes of which the natives had not seen in many ages. A tower's beacon had been lit at a climax of a great battle, the first of many to be sure, and a traitor had been revealed as his king and trusted comrades were cut down as he fled the battle with the reinforcements they so desperately needed. A Blight was upon the land once more and it would seem that all hope was lost as the nation of Ferelden would ever so slowly succumb to the threat of the Darkspawn and the horrors in the hearts of men. Yet in all the doom and gloom there yet lay hope, perhaps the only hope, for saving Ferelden. Well, perhaps lay is incorrect but saying that a great eagle had swooped down and plucked the last two survivors of an ancient order whose sole purpose is to end Blights seems a bit unlikely too, doesn't it? Still, one must think that this Maker most Fereldens go on about must be a pretty generous god if he allowed the duo to survive when all others perished.

In fact, you could say it was almost like he was doing everything could, if he even existed, to protect those lowly mortals. Perhaps he was running a multitude of plans across various timelines and places to ensure this Blight was defeated, wherein anything and everything that could happen probably will happen. But there's a term for that, you know. Not here in Thedas though, of course. No, the phrase was termed in a far away world called Tamriel whose inhabitants have experienced this sort of thing before. There they call it, Breaking the Dragon. A rather apt phrase at that, considering both of these worlds were in the time of dragons, both metaphorical and literal. Now, if all possibilities were truly being explored simultaneously across varying, yet intersecting planes, then perhaps that theory alone could account for the one anomaly that even a very old, and very powerful, witch such as Flemeth could not predict. A great pillar of lightning crashed down from the skies, bringing with it a visitor from foreign lands, as a token of some unspoken alliance.

One would hope that whatever rode the lightning into the Wilds was a powerful sorcerer or warrior that could make mountain shake and seas split with his mere presence. Yet, for all intents and purposes, he was pretty much just dead or at least that was what Flemeth assumed as she flew over the body of the man before deciding that it was better to see to it that the Wardens in her possession were taken care of first. For all she knew it was either a deserter or a survivor who had the misfortune of being struck dead by lightning and was thus unimportant to her and her grand schemes. If she was wrong the man showed no signs of correcting her assumption, at least not until morning when the cold water that seeped into his armor jolted him awake with a great start.

The land was muddy, cold, and wet but it was neither the cold nor the unfamiliar land around him that shocked the visitor. What most confused the man was why he was confused in the first place. As he brushed the mud off his armor to the best of his ability he attempted to remember where he was, and more importantly, who he was but nothing came to mind. So there he kneeled in the mud, searching himself for any clue or note upon his person before taking the helmet off his head to inspect for a wound. His fingers ran through his lengthy blonde hair as he pressed against the flesh underneath to find anything that could explain why he could not remember. When nothing was found he cursed loudly at his sense of helplessness and was prepared to sit in the mud until his memory returned when a monstrous shout replied to his own. Chills went down his back and though the stranger did not know what could have made that sound he knew that he did not want to meet it on any terms but his own.

Struggling to his feet, he placed his helmet back on his head before clumsily running towards the nearest patch of dry land he could see before he was found. No sooner had he reached the land, and found an appropriately sized log to hid behind, did he hear the sounds of a great number of things pursuing him as they trampled through the brush. The first to arrive to his former location was a short, squat creature with hideous skin and long, pointed teeth jutting out where its lips should have been. Followed shortly were more of its kin and taller cousins, who looked like partially rotted corpses before being afflicted with similar appearance to the short ones. They soon split up into teams to comb over the area and as they slowly progressed towards the stranger he realized he could not run and hope to evade so many of these creatures. It was then he became aware of the weight on his back, and after cautiously reaching for it, discovered a crossbow with its accompanying bolts held in place by leather belts across his person. Slinging the already loaded weapon around, he was pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt in his grip and how familiar he was with its workings. Bracing the weapon on top of the log, he took aim at the closest creature so that he might kill it if it continued its course towards.

He had also become aware of two swords, each on either side of his hip, so that if the time for action came he could only hope they felt as equally familiar as the crossbow in his hands. Just as it seemed he would be discovered they creature before him seemed drawn towards something else, and after a moment's pause, turned away. The stranger did not move from his hiding spot for some time to ensure that the creatures were in fact gone before lowering his guard. Letting out a long sigh of relief, he focused his attention on finding anything but those things lest his luck should run out. He observed his surroundings for a time, taking note of everything from the moss to the position of the sun before he deduced the direction of North, though how he knew such things he could not say. Fearing that the creature he saw before might return, he immediately set off in hopes of finding someone infinitely less gruesome looking.

By midday things were looking better as the swamp grew less dense and the going had been getting easier. Still, he could not shake the feeling that there was someone, or something, watching him from the shadows. The silence of the woodland was broken by the quick, sharp barking of a dog not too far from his location. Figuring that anyone with a dog was far better than those swamp creatures, he ran towards the barking with his crossbow in hand until he made it into a clearing by the road. He turned to his left in time to see the dog in question, of some unknown breed no less, but it paid him little mind as it continued to run down the road with a group of familiar creatures coming around the bend of the road in pursuit.

Upon seeing him, the creatures quickly changed targets, heading for the stranger with swords and axes raised with bloodlust in their dark eyes. Believing it too late to run, the stranger brought the crossbow to bear and fired a bolt into the creature leading the charge, knocking it flat on its back and causing two of its kind stumble. Using that time to sling the crossbow onto his back once more, the stranger then drew both of his swords to fight off his aggressors. Each sword was similar in design; a long handles with hilts wrapped in strips of black leather, guards of brass stylized in the manner of a coiled serpent, and long, curved, slightly curved single-edged blades. Yet, they each were distinctly different in the manner that they appeared to be uniquely enchanted. Sparks of electricity fizzled up and down the blade in his right hand while the blade in his left seemed to have blood-red vessels spanning the length of the blade, the light emanating from it pulsing as if it had a heart of its own.

As the creatures closed the distance he let loose a battle cry of his own before charging towards the creatures himself. If the creatures could think perhaps they did not believe that they would be attacked themselves due to their numbers alone and were thus momentarily stunned as the human ran the leading Hurlock through with the sword in his right hand, sending a surge of electricity through the creature before it fell dead. Kicking the creature off his blade, the stranger parried a blow from another one of the creature before slicing into is midsection. Before the others could surround him, a bolt of electricity flew through the air and impacted another Hurlock, sending it the ground. Followed shortly after the lightning bolt the dog he had seen earlier plowed into yet another one of the creatures, savagely tearing out its throat as gore and black blood splattered into the air. A man joined the fray as well, pushing back an approaching Hurlock with his shield before cutting it down as more magic spells and arrows pushed the Darkspawn back.

Keeping his attention on the task at hand and not where these unlikely allies sprouted from, the stranger kept fighting until he was thoroughly satisfied that all of the creatures were dead. Taking the time regain his breath, and wipe the foul blood off his blades on nearby grass, the stranger took the time to observe those who had saved him as they regrouped. There was only a single male in the group, and while he seemed cheery and unfazed by the skirmish, the stranger could tell that the man had been through something traumatic. He talked to a woman, whose long, pointed ears stuck out from her braided blonde hair, who seemed to be the owner of the hound that had led the creatures towards him. They both seemed perfectly normal and were at least happy that they survived the encounter as they told the hound that he was very clever for luring the creatures they called Darkspawn into a trap. Then there was the other woman of their group, and despite her certain lack of clothing, her gaze unsettled the stranger.

She leaned on a staff, her yellow eyes rolling after a comment made by the man of their group, but despite her appearance he could only assume that she was the mage. He must have seemed equally strange or interesting to the group as well, probably just strange, as he gazed at them. Even with the threat of the Darkspawn gone he had yet to sheathe his blades, continuing to stand with them held at the side should he need to strike. The red-haired woman of the group was the first to take notice, or at least act on it, as she led the group towards him with her bow tucked behind her back before stopping a short distance away. "There is no need for your weapons to be in hand, Alistair would be able to tell us if more Darkspawn were nearby," she spoke politely, though with a certain tone meant more for nobility than her appearance would lead him to believe.

"Right, Darkspawn," was his simple reply as he cautiously sheathed his weapons. The male, who must have been Alistair as it would be a ridiculous name for a woman, studied the stranger's weapons and then his armor before speaking up. "I don't suppose you were with the King's army? I don't think anyone around here could afford anything like that so were you a mercenary?"

The stranger looked away for a moment, mentally trying to force an answer out of his mind. He could make out the vaguest of visions but he could not produce a suitable answer. Turning back to face the group, he barely shrugged before simply stating, "I cannot say."

His answer seemed to amuse the mage woman who scoffed at his answer, believing it to be an attempt to remain mysterious. "Clearly it is not out of incapability. Either you do not wish us to know out of secrecy or shame. Probably a deserter and someone we should not waste our time with."

Her last comment was directed more towards the woman that seemed be leading the group but the idea of being dishonorable struck a chord in the stranger and he was not one to let such a slight pass. "I cannot say because I do not know. Who are you to judge so quickly?"

The mage seemed ready to let loose a reply when the red-haired woman placed herself between the two of them, raising her hands to calm things down. "Let's try not to kill each other before the Darkspawn are dealt with, shall we? As for your question, I am Lyna and this is Alistair of the Grey Wardens. Our friend here is Morrigan. She is…our guide towards Lothering. Were you going there as well Sir…?"

Grey Wardens and Darkspawn sounded like important words, words he should know, but still nothing came to the stranger so he had to take them at their word, for now. Believing a courteous response was in order, at least to Lyna, the stranger removed his helmet so that the strangers could get a better view of his face. Even without his helmet he stood half-a-head taller than Alistair, with a bright blonde stubble shining through the mud and dirt caked on his face. His eyes were an icy blue, focused on the group. His armor, which seemed strange at a distance, was even stranger up close, with pieces of the torso and shoulders consisting of segmented layers. When he spoke again he did so with more confidence, looking over Lyna's head to glare at the woman behind her. "I do not know of these words that you speak. Lothering, Grey Wardens, and even my own name is as foreign to me as you are. When I awoke in the swamp all I knew was to head North to get away from those….things. As you have already assisted me once I would ask for your aid once more into pointing me towards civilization. If this…Lothering can assist me then I would like to accompany you at least until then."

"For what it's worth, he isn't lying," Morrigan advised after a brief moment of awkward silence.

"Right, because we should listen to your expert opinion when it comes to liars," Alistair half-jokingly replied, causing the dark-haired woman to shoot a glare his way before Lyna spoke up once more.

"You can tag along with us, at least as far as Lothering and maybe someone there will recognize you. Just be glad I don't find leaving a half-dead shemlen lost in the Wilds funny. Well, not hilariously funny anyway."

"Thank you…Warden," The stranger said, still trying to piece together all that been revealed, before he placed his helmet back on his head.

With nothing else left to say the group turned back towards the road and resumed their journey towards Lothering.


End file.
